Red Velvet Cake
by chayashix
Summary: Dark secrets, hidden between layers of cream cheese frosting. Written for RivaMika Week 2.0 Day 6, February 2014. Prompt: Valentine's Day. As one reader described it on Tumblr: a post-modern V-Day horror story, and probably nothing like any other fic you've read before. Consider yourselves warned! Levi x Mikasa.


_Written for RivaMika Week 2.0 Day 6, February 2014_  
_Prompt: Valentine's Day_

_First warning: Dark!fic. I repeat, **there is no happy ending here**. If you're looking for flowers and fluff, turn around and walk away. **Now**._

_Second warning: This piece is rather experimental, written in a fragmented, post-modernist stream of consciousness style. It's not the easiest narrative form to digest. Don't read it when you need something brainless and coherent._

* * *

They all assume he'd never touch anything sweet, but Mikasa knows better.

There's only one treat he'll ever eat, a red velvet cake; it's deceptive, he says, looking nothing like how it tastes, hiding in fancy coloring, luring you in until you shove it down your throat and it's the same horrible shit stuck to the roof of your mouth and stuffed up your nose; she'll laugh and force him to eat more, it's Valentine's Day after all, surprise! Didn't think I could cook did you, and he'll scowl and swallow another bloody forkful because this time it's different; secrets and lies.

Here's a medium bowl: measure the flour, the baking soda, cocoa powder, sugar; oops not too much, don't want it too sweet after all; eggs, milk, vanilla, and here's another secret, coffee. Time to whisk, humming a tune, should it look like this? Doesn't matter. Here's the coloring, drip drip drip, maybe not enough? It should be much darker. Drown out the filth. It's pouring all over, gushing red brown, slick on her hands, smelling like rust, tasting like dust, coming up roses and choked by disgust _**stop**_. Take a breath. Swallow it down. Bile and all.

Bake in a preheated oven at 325 degrees for 30-40 minutes.

_Cream Cheese Frosting  
_Add softened cream cheese to a large bowl.  
Pour in milk, butter and vanilla extract.  
Mix until well combined.  
Pour in half of the powdered sugar.  
Mix until well combined.  
Add the remaining powdered sugar.  
Mix until well combined.

Ding.

It's done.

The cake is little sunken in the middle, but it doesn't matter. There's enough frosting to cover the hole and then some; into the piping bag it goes and then out with a twist –

_**To Levi. With Love.**_

– and he'll scoff at the loopy scribbles and shaken words never said but written _right there_, screaming pink letters on the cake baked just for him, on this day, this very special day; he'll walk in and see her sitting at the table, oops better take off the apron first, sitting at the table, smoothing out her black dress, eyes shining, nerves biting, surprise! A cake, yes, a cake, who eats shit like that, you will, you made this? Nod. Take the knife, cut the cake, please don't break, oh no, middle's not done, red batter runs, coating my blade, a flying brigade, forsaken crusade, orders obeyed, comrades waylaid, cake is homemade, hurry first aid, suicide raid, help is delayed, forces outweighed, too late to evade are you afraid _**NO**_ snap crackle pop scream shout let it all out I'm talking to you come on come on come on –

"Mikasa, are you ready? The memorial service will be starting soo- what..."

(Armin. Armin come here. Now.)

"Eren, we've got to leav- oh no."

(What has she... Is she _crying_?)

(Knife.)

(Right.)

"Mikasa? It's ok. It's just us."

"Mikasa, I'm going to take this away from you alright? Just let go. Slowly. Yes that's right, good."

"Mikasa. Mikasa look at me..."

"Oh. Eren? Armin? What are you doing here? I'm waiting for- Oh. No. Oh dear. What a mess I've made of everything."

"It's ok. You're fine. Everything is fine."

"No no, it's not. The cake. The cake is a mess."

"What... cake? That's... a cake?"

(Well, it does smell like a cake... even if it doesn't really look like one anymore...)

(No, not at all... but how did it...)

(The knife.)

(Oh.)

"This won't do at all. I'll have to start over."

(...I don't think she should go...)

(No, of course not...)

"Mikasa, you must be tired after all... that. You should get some rest. Here, let's help you upstairs, ok?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Come on Mikasa, give me your hand."

"No. The cake, I must give him the cake."

"Mikasa, please..."

(Eren, get the chair.) "Mikasa, come on, stand up, I've got you."

"Armin, wait, wait, I don't want, I can't, I..."

(I've got her other arm, let's go.)

"Eren, let _go_ of me, STOP, you, don't understand, I..."

_**I have to give him the cake.**_

_**It's Valentine's Day, after all.**_


End file.
